


The Space Between

by audreyslove



Series: Here & Now [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:02:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23588095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreyslove/pseuds/audreyslove
Summary: Here & Now verse - Robin, Regina and the kids go through the COVID outbreak.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood
Series: Here & Now [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697962
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32





	The Space Between

It was coming. He knew it was coming. He knew there was no preventing it. And yet, as the hospital Regina works with admits their first COVID patient, Robin still feeills like the wind is knocked out of him.

“I only take a few shifts in the ER,” Regina reminded him. “In the children’s ward. And children—”

“Yes, they aren’t being affected the same way,” he had finished for her.

“See? It’s very safe,” she lies.

She lies and he knows it. Nowhere is really safe.

Evidence of that is in her casual suggestions she seems to be making to him all the time. “You should telecommute, can’t you video conference with the children?” she asks softly.

It annoys him that she gets to care so much for his safety but he can’t ever care for hers.

She tells him there’s no risk.

She’s safe.

She’s a pediatrician in the pediatrician ward of the hospital. The office is safe, she reminds him. They are only seeing well visits there.

The office is safe, but she brings home a vial and administers Roland’s vaccines herself.

“Just to be safe,” she says.

But isn’t the office safe? He yearns to ask, to throw it in her face, because he’s so angry but deep down inside he knows it’s misplaced to be angry at her.

She takes to stripping off her work clothes in the garage and forbidding Robin and the kids to use it. She immediately showers after work, hot, scalding water from the way the room steams.

But it’s safe, she tells him. This is just a precaution. And Robin should really be telecommuting or wearing a medical grade mask. She is going to get him a mask.

“I’m not taking masks from doctors,” Robin grumbles. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not social distancing from your clients,” she points out. “I know you. You’re far too huggy and soft. If you’re going to do that you need a mask like mine.”

“I’m not scaring the kids,” Robin gripes. “They are scared enough. A mask will scare them more.”

“I’m protected, _you_ are not. Wear a mask,” she demands.

But that just seems to be a bit much, so Robin decides he will only wear medical masks at the hospital.

In a week, everything changes.

Face coverings are the norm, now. And while Robin still won’t wear a medical grade mask, Robin and the children he deal with talk behind pieces of fabric. He can’t see their smiles, can’t see their expressions properly, and it’s hard but necessary. 

The hospital is overrun. A nearby nursing home had an outbreak. Yet the news touts the low rate of hospitalized children.

“I deal with children. There are much less of them showing signs of infection,” Regina reminds, as she now directs their sons to go in the backyard when she comes home, until after she’s showered and changed in the guest bathroom she’s blocked off for anyone else to use.

But the office is safe and the ER children’s ward, that’s safe too.

Regina doesn’t kiss the kids goodnight anymore.

And Robin doesn’t sleep.

He’s prepared for it the moment he reaches Mulan and Marian’s porch, Roland in tow.

“Robin!” Mulan says, that nervous smile. “Come in, please, we have something we want to talk to you about.”

Her eyes are spilling a million apologies for the words she hasn’t spoken, and Robin’s throat grows tight as Mulan ushers their son into the backyard where Marian has set up an easel and some fingerpaints. She shoots Mulan and Robin a nervous glance and waves at him, her face tense and fretful.

He knows.

“Sit down, please,” Mulan asks, and he sees this isn’t easy, her eyes are wet already.

“I know,” he huffs, sitting down. “I know.”

“I hate asking for this,” she breathes. “And it’s so cowardly Marian isn’t asking, but she can’t. She broke down even talking about this, she’s so worried for you, Robin, and she hates the thought of you having to make this choice— we both do.”

“But it’s not safe for him right now, living with Regina,” Robin mutters.

“I know kids haven’t been getting it badly but we worry. They say the pediatric wing has a growing amount of COVID cases. And you know, Marian’s had pneumonia twice and really bad asthma,” Mulan recounts.

“So you want to take him until this is over.”

Mulan bites her lip and shakes her head. “We thought maybe you and Roland would want to move in with us? Until it’s over? Or... I know some healthcare providers have been staying in the basement, or the—”

“I could never,” Robin says, biting his lip. “Besides, I’m still working myself. I’m a liability, too.”

“Courts are closed and you’re telecommuting more,” Mulan tells him. “And you aren’t working with sick people.”

Robin sighs and shakes his head. “I might have to go to the hospital. And it doesn’t matter. Regina is scared, too. She won’t admit it, but I can tell. I don’t want her to be alone through this.”

“And I don’t want either one of you sick,” Mulan answers. “We wouldn’t… we couldn’t handle that.”

“I’m healthy with no underlying issues,” he reminds. “Don’t worry for me.”

Mulan nods. “You guys could quit your jobs, or she could stop hers for a bit. I mean, she doesn’t need the money.”

“It’s not about the money for her,” he reminds. “I could never convince her to quit for me. She’d argue children need her now more than ever.”

“Her family needs her,” Mulan grumbles.

“It’s not fair to ask of her.” Robin sighs. “I can’t take away something that means so much to her.”

Mulan can only nod.

“If I—” Robin clears his throat and rubs his hands through his hair. “I’m going to talk to Regina. But if she agrees, will you take Henry too, for a bit?”

Mulan had expected that question, it seems.

“He has a room here. Always. And you know, we are both telecommuting and I’d be a great teacher for Henry. Marian can handle Roland.”

Robin nods. It seems real now, and the tears start flowing.

“I’ve never had to do this,” he whispers, his voice threatening to break, “Other than a few long weekends when you took him on vacation, I’ve always had such freedom to see him whenever I want, and now…”

There’s a lump in his throat that won’t disappear when he swallows.

Mulan, at least, isn’t faring much better. He notices the hollow blueness under her eyes and realizes she probably lost sleep over this conversation.

“I know, Robin.”

“It could be two months,” his voice cracks shamefully, god he hates it.

“We will figure something out then,” Mulan promises. “We will do visits, all the time, outdoor events six feet apart. You know Roland can’t survive that long without you.”

Yes Roland can. He’s so well cared for. Robin isn’t sure that he can survive, though.

“I’ll get his stuff,” Robin sighs. “I can’t—I can’t say goodbye right now, tell him I’ll be back.”

He wipes away a tear as he leaves the house, cursing the fucking virus and all it has taken from him.

.::.

Henry isn’t home when Robin returns. It’s only Regina, sitting on the step of the garage, smiling and drinking her coffee in the fresh clothes she’s stored there for each shift change.

“Hey,” he says, but Regina shakes her head when he starts walking toward her. “Six feet apart,” she directs

“Regina,” he sighs.

“I think I need to live here,” she says, motioning to the garage. “Can you move out some of the stuff—the cars can stay outside, and maybe if you can bring the air mattress, and I bought a hot plate, I just… I can’t.”

He sees her eyes water.

“What happened?” he asks softly.

“It’s not safe anymore,” Regina admits. “Children keep getting sick. It’s not as bad as the adults but we’re getting it. And I worry all the time. I worry I may give it to the people I love most. I dread coming home every day and worry I may be a biohazard. That I’m asymptomatic and bringing this death in, like I’m an unknowing trojan horse. If anything happened to you three, I just—”

“Roland is going to stay with Marian, for now,” Robin whispers. “Henry should go, too.”

Regina nods softly. “And you.”

Fuck six feet apart. He closes the distance and sits next to her despite her protest. “No, love, not me.”

“One of us needs to be healthy,” she argues, “You have to—”

“You could quit,” he suggests, and Regina just scoffs bitterly.

“There’s already a shortage of us, I can’t do that. The children need us. Abandoning them right now goes against what I stand for,” she grumbles.

Maybe if it was just sick children, maybe he could convince her to let someone else take up the torch.

But it’s not, and he knows it. The lockdown exacerbates domestic abusers of all types. There are children who will be hurt and will need her protection. She can spot a child in need more than anyone.

He wonders, for a second, where the infected exposed and abused children will go while social services investigates. Is a foster home even open to them? Will there be enough beds? Is fighting the disease at a new home safer than at home with an angry parent? And even the well children, he’s running out of good foster parents to call, and they are worried, so worried about bringing in the disease. Will there even be a place for all of them?

He doesn’t know and doesn’t have the strength to ask Regina. She’s brilliant, she’s been thinking on this long and hard.

In any case, this is her cause and there is not a chance he can get her to give it up.

“It was worth a shot,“ Robin jokes, grabbing her hand. “I love you. I’m healthy. I’m not getting sick. And I’m not leaving you. This is emotionally heavy. You won’t suffer it alone. We can still see our sons. They can come over and play in the backyard and we can use masks and stay six feet apart. It will be okay.”

Regina sobs.

She says nothing for a long while, just cries and lets him hold her.

“I’m scared,” she admits for the first time.

“Me too,” Robin tells her, pressing a kiss into her hair.

“Thank you for not leaving,” she breathes. “It’s so selfish to ask you to stay, you shouldn’t, but—”

“I’m not leaving you,” Robin promises her. “Even if you begged me. You’d have to force me out. And something tells me I might need to make more hospital visits for my line of work, too.”

Regina nods quietly.

“Henry might not go willingly,” she admits.

“I’ll make him understand,” Robin promises.

Regina is right; her boy does not want to leave her. He’s smart, Henry is, too smart, he has all the arguments for why he should stay, statistics on its impact on children, an argument that he might already be exposed and asymptomatic so going to Marian’s will do more harm than good, and hey, he’s old enough to assume the risk and he doesn’t want to leave his room and his mom.

Regina fights tears arguing and screaming at him, and Henry violently stalks up the stairs promising she will have to drag him out of the house if she wants him to leave.

“I… I don’t know what to do,” Regina admits. “I won’t be able to sleep worrying over him being here.”

“I have an idea,” Robin says with a shrug.

It’s manipulative and wrong, but he gives Henry an hour and then walks up with with a peanut butter filled chocolate bunny that Regina never would let him have, and a mountain dew he’s hid in the garage for just an occasion.

“It’s me,” Robin says, knocking softly.

He hears Henry groan and open the door.

“I’m not going,” he grumbles. “You can’t make me.”

Robin hands him the treats and helps himself to a spot on Henry’s bed.

“You’re bribing me with candy and soda?” Henry scoffs. I’m not five years old.”

“Yeah, I know,” Robin sighs. “It’s not a bribe. I had this hidden for Easter but it seems we won’t spend it together.”

“Why, are _you_ leaving?” Henry asks, glaring at him, his arms crossed. “Because I’m going to be right here.”

Robin ignores the question and looks at him sadly.

“I dropped my son off and I don’t know when I’ll ever get to hold him again,” Robin says, his heart breaking at the truth of the statement.

It cracks Henry’s anger. The boy is far too sweet to let his family be in pain. “Well, you had to,” he frowns, sitting next to him. “I mean, Roland is little. It’s safer and it will be over before we know it. And can’t we make time to see him, just at a distance?”

“Yeah,” Robin admits. “It doesn’t mean I’m not terrified for him, it doesn’t mean I don’t miss him. and worse, it doesn’t mean he won’t miss me. This is not something we do. You know that. Marian and I divorced but we always made sharing Roland work so smoothly that he has barely had a day when he missed either one of us. This is new for him. And I hate it. And I worry he will hate it, too.”

“You can go stay with him. I’ll stay with Mom,” Henry suggests.

“I’m a social worker, Henry, I’m going to be in the hospital to see people. I can’t be there with Roland unless I quit my job. And I can’t. Not now. Kids are going to need people like me more than ever. But I want to be there. Since I can’t, I would like someone else there in my place.”

That makes Henry pause. He bites his and stares off, in a way so reminiscent of Regina it pains Robin to see.

“You want me to go stay with Roland?”

Robin nods. “I do. He has Marian and Mulan and they are great. But he tells you things he doesn’t tell them. You’re a guy he looks up to. And you, you really have a way with him.”

“But you want me out to keep me safe too. Don’t pretend that’s not the real reason.”

“It’s both,” Robin says earnestly. “I wouldn’t lie to you Henry. Not when Roland is concerned. And you know he will do better if he has you.”

Henry flips down on his bed dramatically. There’s silence for a while and then Henry says softly, “I’m worried about Mom.”

“Me too,” Robin admits.

“I’ve seen the news. What if I leave and she gets sick and I don’t get to ever—”

“I’ll never let that happen,” Robin interrupts. “Okay? It won’t happen because the odds are so slight of her being that sick, she’s healthy and young.”

“What are the odds on us moving to the _exact town_ you and Aunt Mary live in?” Henry asks. “Lots of unusual stuff happens to us.”

“If your mom gets sick I’ll make sure you get to see her,” Robin promises, and he is in such deep shit for this because Regina would never ever agree to it, but he doesn’t care, he will find a way. “but she won’t get sick. She is careful and thorough and she works with children who aren’t getting infected as much.”

“Fine,” Henry bites, rolling his body away from Robin. “Fine, I’ll go stay with Roland and Mulan. But I hate this.”

“I do, too,” Robin admits, patting and rubbing his back gently. “But we are going to talk to each other all the time, and see each other in a safe way as much as we can, I promise you.”

.::.

“Daddy!”

Roland breaks out of Marian’s hold and lunges toward Robin, and even though he’s wearing a mask and feels fine, terror strikes through his body.

Henry nearly tackles him to stop him.

Roland pouts when he’s reminded of the rules. And god, it is so hard not to repeatedly remind Roland that he can’t hug his father.

Henry keeps him upbeat, though, and they try to make a game of it. Six feet apart, they measure it. How much can they do six feet apart?

They can play Charades. They can watch movies outside. Roland can try to throw popcorn into his daddy’s mouth.

It’s almost normal, and yet…

“Hug him tightly for me please,” Regina makes the request out of nowhere, her dainty soft voice sounding laced with tears she won’t shed in front of her son (crying in front of Henry is to be avoided at all costs, he knows this).

“Mom,” Henry groans, looking entirely embarrassed and annoyed.

“Don’t fight it,” Marian whispers, hugging Henry from behind. They share that— Marian and Regina do. That need for physical affection. This is really hard on Regina, he knows.

Henry must know this, too, because he doesn’t fight the hug at all. In fact he even hugs Marian back with gusto.

“That’s from me,” Regina tells him, trying to smile and wink but adequately doing neither.

“I want a hug from Regina!” Roland declares, and Marian scoops him up and gives him the same treatment.

There are lots of hugs by proxy when they meet like this.

It’s awful. But it’s better than nothing.

They try to share time together as much as they can, and sometimes things feel so normal and yet, so far from safe.

Everything and everyone is just out of reach enough to cause discomfort but not quite the unbearable pain of separation.

Regina has diligently protected herself as best she can, (she’s short on PPE and has had to re-wear masks far too often for either of their liking). She’s treated at least two children with COVID— two confirmed several more with the disease but without a test calling it that, and one nine year old is now on a ventilator, for fucks sake, but she and Robin are still either not infected or are asymptomatic, thank god. Still, it’s not worth the risk to let their kids get too close, not without proper medical marks and equipment and there just aren’t enough of those to spare. It would be selfish to use a medical mask and gloves just to give an ill advised hug. And Robin knows that, and running gloves hands through hair and not being able to kiss his forehead through a mask wouldn’t be exactly worth it, either.

But they are wearing masks, and they are out in Regina’s big backyard, six feet apart from their children as Mulan grills up some burgers.

They do this. Eat together, six feet apart, share stories, laugh, watch movies on a projector outside and tonight, Roland and Henry will even go “camping” in the backyard while Mulan supervises, just so Regina can look out into her backyard and see her sleeping child and feel some sort of normalcy.

It’s awful, there’s no other way to put it, but they are making it work as best they can.

Robin never regrets his decision to stay with Regina, as much as it guts him to not see his son the way he wants to. She needs him, she needs someone with all the death she has to see, with the accidental injuries that are all but accidental that she knows are caused by abuse, she sees more of that now since children are stuck in the house with an abusive parent and not as many places to run off and escape. It’s all a lot for someone like Regina, and he can’t imagine letting her deal with all of this alone.

They FaceTime with the children every day, and thank god, they have both adjusted well to the new normal. There’s an ache of incompleteness to him, but he can weather this storm, with her at his side, he is sure of it.

Things at work are awful. Usually a teacher might report signs of abuse, but it’s not being seen until it reaches hospitalization now, until kids are being brought into a doctor covered in bruises. There’s nowhere to put these kids, he has to beg and plead the foster families to accept them. Some of the parents are suffering, too, Regina and he have both seen it, locked in with their abusers and nowhere safe to go.

It weighs on them, causes nightmares and nausea and panic and worry, and sometimes he’s just glad Roland and Henry aren’t there to see this, because trying to put on a brave face would be so hard for them.

Regina gets sick first.

She hids it from him as best she can, but she’s choking back a cough and he can’t stand to pretend anymore.

“You’re sick.”

“It’s a cold,” she insists. “I feel sinus pressure. It’s a wet cough. I have no fever.”

They have to keep monitoring her temperature every day and he’s terrified because she coughs so much at night.

“I don’t have any chest pain,” Regina insists.

Robin is terrified.

But whatever she has fades over time, and he gets the symptoms too, and Regina frets and worries as if her illness never happened. HIs fever gets to 100.4 and she is besides herself with worry, monitoring him and caring for him as if he were an infant.

Regian insists it was only cold. It doesn’t matter anyway, they live through it.

They try to keep their colds from the children but Henry picks up on it. He calls them three times a day now.

“We are fine,” Regina insists, but Henry worries like his mother. It’s a talent she sadly passed on, Robin jokes.

It is true, though, in any other time an illness like this would barely register, but they are on high alert and concerned.

Robin realizes he was short of breath after all, but not because of symptoms. He had been holding his breath all night through all of Regina’s coughing fits, and when the coughing subsides he can truly finally breathe again.

.;;.

It’s much longer than he had hoped, but things do get better, as they always do. It’s still there, it’s still a mess, but it’s…. manageable now. Hospitals aren’t overwrought. There’s treatment options. There’s proper equipment and protection for Regina, and for Robin, who has now transitioned into being a healthcare social worker.

They’ve both had to see more death and mourning than they’d care to talk about, but it’s tapered off now.

Robin will probably always have to wear a mask at work, and he doesn’t like that, but it’s okay, it’s better.

They were tested for the virus and have no symptoms or recent contact with anyone infected, and they’ve repeatedly checked and Regina insists it’s safe now, finally safe for their family to be normal again.

Robin hasn’t hugged his son in months, and he thinks of every second he went without as little mop-top headed Roland rushes toward him, arms outstretched.

Finally, he thinks, as he braces himself to catch every ounce of affection his son is for him, finally, now, he feels safe.


End file.
